Her Highness, the Traitor - By Susan Higginbotham Page 0,136

Not even the lady Elizabeth had been allowed this privilege since arriving at the Tower. “I would like to ask that my sons, my husband’s brother Sir Andrew, and I myself be pardoned, and be allowed to show how loyally we can serve Your Majesty.”

“We will consider a pardon for you, as you were but an obedient wife. Your sons and Sir Andrew must wait our further consideration and consultation with our council.”

“I thank you, Your Majesty. While my sons continue in confinement”—prison, I decided swiftly, would sound too harsh in the queen’s ears—“may I request that they be allowed to hear the Mass?”

“The guards at the Tower do not report that they have shown any signs of embracing the true faith. Why, your son Guildford refused a priest.”

He was sixteen, dying for a conspiracy he knew nothing of. Would you deprive the boy of that one last satisfying act of defiance? “He was young and foolish about such things. My older three sons have greater understanding of these matters, being, well, older, and my youngest son will likely follow their example.”

“So you believe they will hear Mass if permitted to?”

They will if they have the sense God gave a sheep, I thought. “I should like to have them given the opportunity, Your Majesty.”

“We shall consider it.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. There is one more matter—my livelihood. I have the support of my daughter Katheryn and of my late husband’s youngest brother, Jerome, who is a natural. There is a household dependent upon me, as well. All have suffered for my husband’s treason.” John, forgive me. “Your Majesty has generously allowed me the use of Chelsea, but we are in straitened circumstances. I would ask that you allow me to enjoy some of the lands that formed my jointure.”

“Bring a petition in the Court of the Exchequer, and it will be attended to.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

I started to drop to my knees, but the queen forestalled me. “You need not trouble yourself,” she said in a voice that held more warmth than it had before.

I thanked her again. Impulsively, I added, “I am very happy Your Majesty’s marriage is coming to fruition. There is no greater happiness than the married state.”

“We shall soon find out,” Mary said dryly. “God be with you, my lady.”

“Your Majesty? I do have one last request.”

“Yes?” Mary’s voice was sharp again.

“I would like to visit my husband and my son in their resting place.”

***

I said my prayers over the body of Guildford, who lay a distance from the high altar at the Chapel of St. Peter ad Vincula, and dutifully added a prayer for his wife, as well, although she probably would not have approved. Then I walked a few feet forward, where, in graves marked only by four small crosses, lay two dukes between two queens: Anne Boleyn, the Duke of Somerset, John, and Katherine Howard. The silliest queen in Christendom, I heard John say. Perhaps lying next to her for all eternity, instead of me, might appeal to his sense of humor. I hoped so.

“I miss you so much, my love,” I whispered. “I try to put a brave face on things, but it is very hard. But I am making progress with the queen, you will be glad to hear. I have finally been allowed to see her, and she didn’t outright refuse to free our sons. That is something, at least—”

I heard a rustle behind me. Standing at a respectful distance, clad in black, was the Duchess of Somerset. “I am sorry to have disturbed you,” she said. “I usually come here at this time. I will leave you in private, if you wish.”

“There is no need. I was just leaving. The Countess of Warwick is well, I hope?”

“Yes. She visited the Earl of Warwick not long ago. She said he was in good spirits, all things considered.”

“I am glad to hear that.” I started to move away.

The Duchess of Somerset stopped me. “I am glad to have found you here. Do you remember me cursing your husband?”

“How could I possibly forget? And you got your wish.”

“I saw how foolish a wish that was when I came to visit my husband and saw your own husband’s newly made grave beside his. His death did nothing to fill the void in my heart, and your grief made mine none the lesser.” Anne reached out her hand to me. “I wish you the best. I hope with all my heart that your sons are